The Games We Play
by Y0URIMAGINARYFRIEND
Summary: She can't bring herself to believe he might be genuine, but she's tired of playing unending games. ShunsuiNanao oneshot


This is for Rebel-Aquarius, whose fic 'Just Pretend' got me out of my writing funk and into Bleach-fic. Also for Valentine's, I suppose, though I didn't actually expect to finish this today.

Enjoy!

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It was always games with Shunsui; had been from the first day she'd known him. Fresh and new and terrified at being the only member of her class to graduate to the eighth division, he'd managed to persuade her that she was hallucinating his lieutenant until she was ready to hand herself over to the fourth for mental evaluation. She'd been mortified and convinced that she was loosing her mind until he'd caught Lisa's eye and the pair of them – her new commanding officers who she had been so anxious to impress – had collapsed into giggles.

He was all insouciant teasing and gentle power, complimented by his second's rather hands-on sense of humour. It hadn't taken long to learn that any time the pair were together, neither should be taken at face value. Nanao had respected them both, of course; especially Lisa, who was kind and intelligent despite her bluntness. She hardly saw Shunsui at all in those days.

She had had such a crush on him back then. But she'd known that his kind words were his own brand of gently-poked fun, and she was so small and weak and plain – why would he see her, compared to someone like Lisa?

It had taken more than a century, despite her exponential rise in rank and ability, to think that he might consider her as more than just a child to be teased. She denied herself the right to think so impertinently and refused to think of such things, retreating instead into propriety and usefulness, and before she knew it, habits had set in.

Habits like him calling her beautiful. Like her berating him for sleeping. Like snapping at him to disguise her blushes as anger. It was easy enough to keep to the pattern, she felt safe like this, no longer fragile from fear that he might never care for her, because she clearly didn't care either.

But in the aftermath of the great battle, meeting Lisa again for the first time since she grew up (but suddenly feeling like a child all over again), she had her carefully built walls cracked.

"He never complimented me before, you know," Lisa remarked offhandedly as the medics hustled them out of the little visiting room. "I think he only did now because you were here, and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Does he often say you're pretty?"

"He calls me 'lovely' and 'beautiful' all the time, but it doesn't mean anything. He chases everything with breasts." Nanao asserted, off balance at the observation. Of course, he didn't call _every_ girl beautiful...in fact, she couldn't remember when he last had. But...it didn't mean anything. Nothing did, with Shunsui. She would _not_ let herself start hoping now.

Lisa just raised an eyebrow and made no comment, which in itself was revealing. It was the look of a superior, an older, wiser being, torn between amusement and frustration. It made Nanao' knuckles clench around her paperwork – she was doing all of it while Shunsui was with the fourth – whenever she thought of it.

When he came back, she found herself watching him more closely. She saw the way he smiled at all the girls, and compared it with how he looked at her. The rueful expression on his face when she berated him for napping. He never looked chastened for anybody but her. But was that romantic? Or was it just a game played out between the two of them, time and again. Did it even matter? What if she wanted to stop playing?

It wasn't until the spring that she worked up the courage to face this. Their own personal farce of a relationship, with no audience and no plot she could discern, had gone on too long. She needed something _real_. He was asleep on the roof, and instead of kicking him awake or scolding him, as she usually would, she sat down beside him, set down her book, and lifted the brim of his hat just high enough to see his eyes.

"There's something I need to ask you, Captain, and I need you to be completely honest in your answer."

He blinked, smiled lazily up at her. "Of course, lovely Nanao, I would never be anything less."

She bit back the retort that he was _always_ dishonest, because it wasn't really true. He might play games, but he didn't actually lie. Her throat constricted at the knowledge, and her question came out as a choked whisper, rather than her usual straightforward tone: "Do you really think me so beautiful and lovely?"

He stared, and sat up, features melting into something like panic. He must have thought she was about to cry, and the realisation was enough to make it a reality for Nanao. She gulped and refused to acknowledge the tears suddenly brimming in her eyes. The safety of their unspoken rules was gone, her mask of indifference shattered; she felt naked, vulnerable without those defensive walls up.

His hands wrapped around her own where they lay fisted in her lap. So warm, so large compared to her own. She looked at them; browned, with little dark hairs on the back, rather than look at his face...only it didn't work and her eyes flicked up traitorously to meet his own.

"Oh my Nanao, what have I done to make you doubt me so? To me you are all I have ever called you and more; you are the woman I adore and I thought-" He paused a moment and closed his eyes, squeezing her hands in his own. "I thought you knew of my regard for you. I can see now I was wrong."

She stared, tears quite forgotten on her cheeks. He looked genuine, he sounded sincere, but surely...

"Wasn't it just a game to you?" She blurted, feeling like a fool, but needing to be absolutely certain. She wanted to believe him so much, and yet it might just be another joke, a prank, and she couldn't let go of that fear. The expression on his face was indecipherable, and she braced herself for whatever he might say.

But he didn't say anything. Instead, he tugged on her hands, and leaned forward to press his mouth to hers. It was a chaste kiss, but languid and warm, and so filled with _him_ that she trembled. He pulled back, smiled a rueful smile. "I hope you can at least trust my actions not to lead you false, however hollow my words may seem."

She would have said something – told him she believed him, that she was sorry for ever mistrusting him, that she felt the same as he did – but words failed her, so she simply kissed him again.

Her forehead knocked his hat off, and the sun dyed the light behind her eyelids pink. He chuckled softly against her mouth, letting his hands move from her own; one to cup her cheek and wipe away the tear-tracks there, one to grip her waist and pull her – slightly awkwardly – into his lap.

Her fingers found purchase in soft cloth, in the un-bound hairs at the base of his neck. His lips were wet now, and his body warm and solid.

This, she thought hazily as his tongue met her own, was nothing like words and games. This was real.

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Con-crit would be most welcome, though I want it noted that I read the Bleach manga only, so my characterisation may not comply to any anime filler of these guys. Also, go read Rebel-Aquarius's stuff (she's in my fave authors list if you can't be bothered searching her out).


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